


Puzzle Pieces

by footprintsinthesnow



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footprintsinthesnow/pseuds/footprintsinthesnow
Summary: Yuki reflects on his relationship with Machi, and whether he should finally tell her the full truth about himself.





	Puzzle Pieces

Sometimes, Yuki couldn’t quite believe where his life had taken him. Only a few short years ago, every single day was a maelstrom of hurt, insecurity, abuse, and alienation that he had resigned himself to living in forever. Then, things slowly started to turn around, and he somehow ended up here. He liked it here. He was a student at the university of his choosing, studying business with the hopes of someday running his own plant shop. He had a comfortable apartment that was perhaps a little bit too messy, but he liked it that way. Things with Ayame were slowly but surely getting better, and he went over to see him and Mine for weekly dinners at their place. He had good friends, both old friends and new ones from his classes. And then, of course, Machi… who was laying in the bed not a foot away from him, fast asleep and breathing softly. He reached over to gently run his hand across her back, tracing small shapes into her pale skin. She stirred lightly under his touch, and he smiled when she stilled again. Yes, he liked it here a lot. In fact, if someone were to ask, he might even say this was his favorite place to be.

It was strange to think how seamlessly she fit into this life he was building. In a way, she was part of him now – a part of his family, a part of his home, a part of the future he saw for himself. It was hard for him to imagine any of those things without her. With her, he had an easy and comfortable intimacy that existed with nobody else he had ever met, not even Tohru. He could just be himself, whoever that person happened to be on any given day. Machi didn’t mind the unpleasant feelings that sometimes bubbled to the surface. She was always right there by his side, engaging with those feelings and guiding him through them. He used to incessantly apologize for his bad moods. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he’d said to her. But she took his hands in her own and told him that he could be whoever he wanted to be around her, because part of loving someone unconditionally was supporting them through good times and bad times. 

And she’d meant it. She held him during his anxiety attacks, instructed him to match her breathing until the room stopped spinning and he could feel the air in his lungs again. She listened to him once he felt able to speak, and cried with him as he showed her yet another piece of the convoluted puzzle that made him who he was. She sat next to him on the rare occasions that his mother called, and gently stroked the back of his hand when his voice would start to tremble. He remembered when Akito visited to offer a formal apology for all of the things she had done to him, Machi had waited in the bedroom to comfort him when it was all over. She even supported the more embarrassing things. When she first started spending nights with him, Yuki always removed the nightlight he kept in his bedroom and hid it inside his desk drawer. He was old enough to get over his fear of the dark, he decided – he wasn’t that same frightened child anymore. Then, one day, he’d forgotten to put it away. She saw it, and he tried to explain it away with some excuse he could no longer remember. But she had only shrugged, and said that he must have it there for an important reason. In the back of his mind, Yuki thought she must be too good for him. But when he told her that, she punched him in the arm for saying something so dumb.

He couldn’t help but wonder, though, if she could be pushed too far. As much as he tried to forget, there was a part of him that Machi didn’t know yet. He had planned to tell her back then, but some divine force had decided to intervene. At the time, he had been glad to not need to tell her. It had been a blessing. Not having to tell her meant that he didn’t have to worry about losing her anymore. They could be together with no risks, no consequences. But, recently, he wondered how much longer he could go without saying anything. 

It wasn’t that he was eager to tell her. The problem was that Machi was perceptive. He knew that most of the dark childhood stories he told her were half-truths, and that she was smart enough to figure that out on her own. He could see the way she got confused when he would trail off in the middle of a funny anecdote, with the weak excuse that he’d forgotten what happens next. Then, of course, there was the time she'd told him that he was mysterious. “It’s like there’s a locked door somewhere inside of you,” she’d said quietly one night, while he cradled her in his arms under the covers, “and I can’t find the key, no matter how hard I look for it.” He hadn’t responded. He had only stroked her hair and held her closer to him until she finally fell asleep. She never brought it up again, but he knew that it was still on her mind. And the more time that went by with her thinking about it, the more he feared that she would grow frustrated with never having that key, that final puzzle piece.

He remembered that once, during one of his visits, Ayame asked him if Machi knew about the curse. When Yuki said no, his brother seemed surprised.

“Why would I tell her now?” Yuki asked. “It’s not a part of my life anymore. I’ve moved on from it, and I don’t want to go back ever again.”

“Little brother,” Ayame tutted, setting his tea down, “I hate to say it, because you know that I love and support everything you do, but I think you’re looking at the situation all wrong.”

“How so?”

Ayame wagged his finger, and said, “Relationships aren’t built on lies, Yuki. Even when those lies are more like omissions than outright deceit. I should know! I could never tell a lie to my Mine. I trust her with all of my deepest and most tantalizing secrets, and we have a wonderful relationship because of it.”

“Okay,” Yuki said slowly, rolling his eyes, “well, how did you tell her, then?”

“Ah! I’m so glad you asked. It was quite simple. She asked why I wouldn’t hold her, so I told her that, if I tried, I would turn into a dreadful snake.”

“And? You showed her right? See, that's part of my problem, I can't prove myself.”

“No, actually. She kissed my cheek,” Ayame said thoughtfully, glancing out the window. “She kissed me and told me that she understood.”

Yuki sighed. “Machi isn’t like Mine. She’s not really…” he stopped, considering what words would cause the least offense to his brother’s wife. “Machi is pragmatic. I just don’t think she’d take it at face value like that.”

He watched as Ayame cocked his head and smiled. “You should have more faith, dear Yuki. Machi is a special girl, much more special than you’re giving her credit for.”

They’d had that conversation months ago, and nothing had come out of it. Life went on as normal, and Ayame hadn’t asked him about it since. 

Yuki rolled over and ran his hands through his hair. He could hear his thoughts getting too loud, and he didn’t want to wake Machi with them. Carefully, he crawled out from under the covers and tiptoed down the hall to the living room. He grabbed the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over him as he settled in. The couch wasn’t quite as cozy as the bed, and the soft silver moonlight that seeped in from between the curtains was too bright, but it was fine. He wasn’t able to sleep anyway, so he figured comfort didn’t really make much of a difference.

As he laid there, his stomach churned and the thoughts crept back into his brain. They weren’t going to leave him alone now, not until he did something about them. 

He wished it was easier to do something. He wanted to believe that Ayame was right. Machi was special, that much was true. He’d known that from the very first day they’d met. But this was so different from the other things he had told her. Those things were firmly rooted in reality. This just sounded like some weird fairy tale, or the ramblings of a lunatic. People didn’t turn into animals. That wasn’t a thing that happened. How could he expect Machi to take his word on that? How would she even react to him telling her? Would she think he was playing a joke on her? Would she think he was ill? Would she tell him he was out of his mind? Would she break up with him? He wouldn’t blame her if she did any of those things. If he was being honest with himself, he would probably do those exact things if he were in her place. 

But then… he couldn’t lie to her forever. Ayame was right about that too. He needed to tell her, even if she left him, called him crazy, said she never wanted to see him again. It scared him, but he had to do it. Maybe he’d call Tohru and ask for advice, or perhaps Hatori, someone rational who could talk him down from his panic and help him make sense of everything. He’d make the call soon, he decided. And then, when it was done – 

“Yuki?” a sleepy voice asked.

He jumped up from the couch to find Machi staring at him from across the room. She looked so small, standing there and tiredly rubbing the sleep out of her brown eyes. 

“I’m here,” he whispered, walking over and putting an arm around her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” she mumbled, leaning into his touch. “Just wondered where you’d gone.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was worried I’d wake you with my tossing and turning.”

He felt her posture straighten slightly. “Why? Is something the matter?”

Yuki looked up at the ceiling and bit his lip. “It's just,” he breathed, wrapping his arm around her a little more tightly, “it’s... really complicated.”

She hummed and squeezed his arm. “Can’t be more complicated than everything else we’ve been through, right?”

A weak laugh escaped him. “I don’t know about that.”

“Try me, then?”

He met her eyes, and watched as her lips parted into that loving grin he’d seen so many times before. He hugged her fully then, and nuzzled his face into her hair. “I’ll tell you in the morning, okay? Just... just promise you won’t let me get out of it, because I'll try to. But let’s go back to bed now, yeah? I’m tired, and so are you. I just want to go to sleep with you right now.”

She nodded, and wriggled out of his arms. “C’mon,” she said, “let’s go to sleep.” She grabbed his hand then, and led him back to their bedroom. The churning in his stomach began to ease with every step they took. In the morning they would talk, and he would finally give her that final puzzle piece. Maybe she wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t feel so afraid anymore. She was here right now, meeting him halfway and reaching out like she always did – and he had a feeling she wasn’t going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> \- hope you guys liked it!! i love machi, so i really wanted to write a piece where yuki thinks about how important their relationship has been to him.  
> \- i didn't have a beta for this piece so please be nice if there are any typos lmao  
> \- come say hi on tumblr @machi-kuragi :))


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